


Smiled with the risin' sun

by Katarin



Category: Bandom, Bandom: The Academy Is...
Genre: First Time, Laundry, M/M, Tour Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-23
Updated: 2010-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katarin/pseuds/Katarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>halfway through Warped and Siska hasn't had clean underwear in a week</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smiled with the risin' sun

**Author's Note:**

> title from Three Little Birds, by Bob Marley

They're halfway through Warped and Siska hasn't had clean underwear in a week. He stole some from Chiz two days ago and the Butcher two days before that but now everyone's watching him whenever he goes near their bags. He tried to grab batteries for his camera out of Carden's bag and nearly got knocked out when Carden lunged to protect it.

They have Thursday off and Siska's looking forward to sleeping in but the Butcher kicks his bunk at eight in the fucking morning. His hair is dark at his temples and even though he's obviously had a sponge bath in the sink, Siska can smell the fresh sweat on him. He must have gone running this morning.

"Grab your shit, Sisky, Laundry Day," Butcher says when Siska pokes his face out from the curtain. Siska blinks at him twice, tilting his head like he doesn't understand English anymore and Butcher smiles and squats down so they're face to face. "Your clothes smell. My clothes smell. Even for a bunch of musicians, we're bordering on unhealthy, My Chemical Romance levels of disgusting. Throw something on, I saw a Laundromat in town."

"Fuck," Siska says and Butcher makes a face.

"Jesus, and don't forget to brush your fucking teeth," Butcher's grin takes the sting out of the words though and so does his palm against Siska's scalp, ruffling his hair.

*

The guys catch them trying to sneak out with their laundry bags and suddenly they're volunteered to do laundry for everyone. Carden, Bill, Chiz, even Jack hands over their filthy bags full of clothes and Butcher and Siska start the long walk to wherever this Laundromat the Butcher found is. It's only eight thirty and already the heat's getting pretty bad. Siska's already sweating, shirt sticking to his back in a way that makes him feel like he's being punished for ever saying he was looking forward to the heat.

Siska bumps against the Butcher, nudging him with his hip and he doesn't take into account the fact that he's carrying several laundry bags that weigh almost as much as he does. It trips him and he nearly goes down but the Butcher catches him with his body, steadying him out. Siska's feet drag against the ground for a second, kicking up a cloud of dirt so both of them are coughing.

"You okay there, Sisky?" the Butcher asks him, mouth close to his ear and one arm around his back. It's like déjà vu because he remembers this, remembers just last Saturday after Cobra's set. Siska was falling down drunk and the Butcher was helping him back to the bus and Siska had tripped and Butcher had caught him around his waist, pulled him back against his chest and asked just that question. Only Siska had answered by twisting his neck to an awkward angle and kissing him, opening his mouth and it was mostly just a kind of frantic press of lips and tongues before Chiz and James stumbled by and they broke apart, Siska taking the last few rambling lurches to the bus.

"I'm fine, thanks," Siska answers, righting himself. They haven't talked about it and he figures it'll stay that way, like that one time he jerked William off when William was really drunk and didn't remember it the next day. "Scuffed my sneeks though." He looks down at his high-tops, as if to emphasize his point but they're halfway through the summer, half way through fucking _Warped_ and his sneakers are battered and dirty and no amount of dirt is going to further fuck them up at this point.

"Yeah, I bet they don't recover," Butcher answers, rolling his eyes.

*

The Laundromat, when they get there, is all cracked linoleum and ancient machines. They make change with Bill's money first, then Carden, Chiz and finally Jack's. It works out to the two of them only having to contribute about two bucks each. Which they're both fine with.

"It's like a fee or something, man," Siska says when he's putting bills into the change machine. "It's the price they're paying not to have to haul their shit down here and saving me from eating it in some dirt." He grins at Butcher, his own way of saying _thanks again for that, man_, without actually having to say anything and he's surprised when Butcher steps into his space.

He's backed up against the change machine, the loud, metallic, clanking sound of quarters dispensing loud in Siska's ears when the Butcher leans down just a little and presses his mouth to Siska's. Chapped, dry lips against chapped, dry lips and Siska can't help but think that they were better at this when they were drunk. Butcher must think so too because he pulls back for a second with a frown before licking his lips and going in a second time.

It's better this time, so, so much better and Siska rests his arms over Butcher's biceps and moans quietly when Butcher sucks on his bottom lip. Butcher's hands are on his hips, thumbs resting along the waistband of Siska's jeans and Siska just closes his eyes and loses himself in this moment. It doesn't last long; can't last long. After only a few seconds the dig of the machine at Siska's back is starting to hurt and they're both even grosser than being three days off their last hotel night usually means. Dirt and sweat sticking to their bodies unpleasantly and Butcher backs off first.

He wipes his mouth and grins at Siska before turning back to their laundry. Siska turns around to grab a fistful of quarters out of the machine and touches his mouth tentatively, grinning hugely all the while.

*

"So are we going to talk about it?" he asks, raising his voice to be heard over the low hum of the machines. He's sitting on the counter next to the sink Butcher's using to presoak something of William's, kicking his legs in front of him and looking at the floor.

"What did you want to talk about?" and Butcher sounds genuinely interested, squeezing out William's shirt and raising an eyebrow at Siska like they weren't making out less than ten minutes ago.

"You and me and the..." Siska doesn't know exactly what to say because _kissing_ sounds kind of lame and he really does think there's more to it than that. Instead he holds up his fist and pretends to make out with it until the Butcher is laughing and smacking him with William's wet shirt.

"What's to talk about, man? I want to, you want to," Butcher says. Siska has holes in the knees of his jeans, the result of falling off his bike in a parking lot, scraping against the asphalt until they tore and worn and washed until there are twin holes at the knees. Butcher plays with the white fringe around the hole on Siska's right knee, watching him. "I promise to do my best not to fuck it up if that makes you feel better?"

Siska kicks him in the thigh and jumps down from the counter to switch around the laundry.

*

Siska's stripped down to nothing but a pair of Butcher's shorts, everything else is either in a machine or in a pile waiting to get there. He's grabbing a sponge bath in the sink while Butcher switches around yet another load of clothes. He grabbed paper towels and soap from the bathroom and even though he's well past the point of hating the liquid, anti-bacterial soap in almost every public bathroom in the world, he's feeling at least a little less disgusting.

There's no air conditioning in the building, just a few ancient fans half-heartedly blowing hot air over the two of them. It's half past eleven and the temperature's climbed to ridiculously uncomfortable levels. They're alone, all of the sane people staying inside where it's cool and Siska twists the knob for more cold water and keeps reaching around behind him for the soap he can feel drying between his shoulder blades.

"You're getting water everywhere," Butcher observes, coming to stand next to Siska and reaching out for the wadded up paper towel in his hand. Siska hands it to him, leaning his arms on the sink and dipping his head forward so Butcher can get to his back. They've done this a couple million times before but things are different now and Butcher touching him, Siska bent forward like this, it's nearly a tease.

"Bill gave me this really serious talk a few weeks ago," Butcher says, seemingly out of nowhere. Siska would think he's not feeling the same weird tension he is but he keeps _accidentally_ running his thumbs over the bumps of Siska's spine, leaning just a little closer when Siska shivers. "It lasted nearly an hour and it was really kind of a long, rambling extended metaphor about baby birds and sunny skies and something about Alka Seltzer tablets? I'm pretty sure there was more but I'm guessing it boiled down to him saying we were fine but that he'd kill me if I did anything that hurt you."

Siska squeezes his eyes closed, dropping his head forward with a sigh. "Dude, you talked to Billvy about this?"

"No! That's just it," Butcher says, leaning forward so his chest is pressed against Siska's back and letting out one of those weirdly high pitched giggles of his. Siska feels it against his back, the two of them pressed skin to skin (because the Butcher will never not take an opportunity to take his shirt off) and Butcher's chest expanding and contracting, deep hum of laughter. "He came up to me. I didn't say anything and I wasn't really thinking... but he was saying it like we've been doing this forever and he knew all about it and was giving his blessing or something. It was kind of weird."

"So Bill thinks we've been bumping uglies for a while now?" Siska asks, turning his head to talk to Butcher over his shoulder.

"Weird, huh?" Butcher asks, wiping cold water across Siska's shoulders and Siska shivers again. "I think I got it all." Butcher steps back, handing Siska the wad of paper towels back. One of the machines buzzes and Butcher shoves him at it and because it is actually his turn, Siska goes.

*

It's a little after noon and Siska's dunked his head under the cold water faucet three times in the last half hour. Butcher's at the tiny liquor store next door, buying more detergent because the machine at the Laundromat is out and Siska's perched on top of one of the machines, kicking out a rhythm against the side and humming idly to himself. He looks up when Butcher comes back, grin on his face and swinging a small, white, plastic bag.

"Catch," he calls out, tossing something Siska's way that turns out to be a Popsicle. It's red flavored, but Siska doesn't really care. It's cold and looks delicious and he kind of wants to kiss the Butcher right now. He has it unwrapped and in his mouth in seconds, closing his eyes and moaning at the sudden coldness.

When he opens them again, the Butcher is in front of him, grin still in place and watching him with interest. Siska ducks his head and blushes a little, stretching one foot out to wrap around Butcher's calf and pulling. Butcher follows, setting his hands on the machine on either side of Siska's hips, standing between his open thighs and leans up to kiss him. His mouth is so warm and it's a surprise until Butcher pulls back for a second to run his thumb over Siska's lower lip.

"Cold," he says, in explanation, ducking his head to kiss Siska's throat. Siska reaches down, tilts his face back up and just like that they're kissing again, his arms around the Butcher's shoulders and Butcher gripping tightly to Siska's thighs. He whimpers into Butcher's mouth, going with it when Butcher grabs hold of his hips and drags him forward.

"This is probably a bad idea," Butcher whispers against his mouth, hand against his chest before he pulls away. There's pressure on his chest, Butcher pushing him back and leaning down to kiss Siska's chest and he's gotten enough head to recognize what's going on. Butcher pulls on the shorts Siska borrowed from him and Siska lifts his hips, helping him out.

Butcher only bothers to get them down past his hips before bending down to wrap his mouth around him. He makes a face and Siska feels guilty for a second but really, no amount of sponge bathing was going to make him not taste like it's been days since his last shower, especially not given the heat. He cards his fingers through Butcher's short hair and groans with appreciation when Butcher sweeps his tongue over the underside of his cock.

It's good, really, really fucking good and Siska has a hard time remembering his manners, has to remind himself not to arch up into Butcher's perfect mouth, tries as hard as he can not to pull at Butcher's hair. His thighs feel rubbed raw and he knows he's probably sporting a wicked case of beard burn but even that feels good. Soft scrap of Butcher's beard over his skin and slow suction around his cock and it's not long until Siska's pulling at Butcher's hair, warning him off.

Butcher doesn't pay attention, just keeps bobbing his head in Siska's lap, doing that thing with his tongue that makes Siska's toes curl until he's shouting Butcher's name and spilling into his mouth. He gets up to spit in the sink while Siska's still leaning back on the machine in something of a stupor. The backs of his knees and thighs are sticking to the thin metal of the washing machine and he's sex stupid but anyone with eyes can see the Butcher needs some reciprocity.

"C'mere," he says, sitting up and parting his thighs invitingly. He probably over-does it because Butcher giggles again, coming over and kissing Siska again. Siska can taste himself, moaning quietly into the kiss and reaching out for the buttons and zippers of Butcher's pants. He shoves his hand inside, pulling Butcher's cock out and starts jerking him off. He has to lean down a little to do it but he ends up with one hand in Butcher's hair and both of Butcher's on his back, hauling him just a little closer. Butcher comes wet and sticky across Siska's hand and stomach, groaning into Siska's mouth and gripping just a little too tightly to his hips.

"Fuck," Siska says afterwards, running his clean hand through Butcher's hair. The Butcher is leaning against him, forehead pressed to Siska's shoulder, hair once again sweat-dark against his temples. "I think I need another sponge bath."

*

It's nearly two by the time the last load of laundry is out of the dryer and stuffed into duffel. He and Butcher had rinsed off in the sink, cold water turned on all the way and even though Siska's dressed again, he still hasn't put on a shirt yet.

"Last one!" Butcher announces, shoving whatever item of Jack's was last (possibly underwear by the looks of it). They cheer together for exactly twelve seconds before the insane heat reminds them why they were taking it easy.

"I just want to play some Halo," Siska tells him, trudging back down the dirt road to get back to the busses. Their bags feel even heavier now that they're full of clean, warm clothes and Siska honestly thinks he might die if they don't get out of this heat. "Some a/c and a little Halo, is that too much to ask?"

"And a beer," Butcher adds emphatically.

"Fuck yes! An ice cold beer and some Halo on our air conditioned bus; these are all I want out of life right now." Siska wishes they weren't carrying such heavy bags so he could fake faint against him, to prove his point about how hot it is.

"It's a date then," the Butcher adds in, a little too casually to actually be casual at all. "When we get back?"

Siska just nods and ducks his head again, scuffing his toe against the dirt. "Yeah, sounds awesome."


End file.
